


The hotel pool

by womanroaring



Series: How Otayuri might happen [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Jealous!Yuri, M/M, poor yakov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanroaring/pseuds/womanroaring
Summary: “Mila was flirting with you,” Yuri burst out, flicking his eyes up to a spot on Otabek’s shoulder.“Was she?” Otabek asked, and Yuri lifted his eyes up to his face again. Otabek’s face had relaxed a little but his eyes were even more intense than usual, like he wanted to read Yuri’s mind through his facial expression. Yuri scowled again and looked down at his shoes.“She’s not really my type,” Otabek added lightly after a second or two...See, the thing is, I could picture Yuri and Otabek being fantastic BFFs and I could picture them being just awesome boyfriends, later on -- but I struggled in my head with a graceful way for one to become the other. Then everyone was talking about a tweet from Kubo-sensei, where she wondered what would happen if Mila showed any interest in Otabek, since they’re the same age.Everyone seemed to have the same reaction I did - that Yuri would be jealous and it would be a catalyst for their relationship to change.Here’s my take on that.I went with the convention that YOI is set in 2014 so this would be the 2016 Worlds, which were held in March/April in Boston.





	

Yuri loved being friends with Otabek.

They met up when they were at the same competitions. Otabek always hired motorbikes at them when he could; he said riding around helped clear his head. And he made sure to have a second helmet in case Yuri wanted to come for a ride or two with him.

Yuri always did.

He thought it was so cool, though he would have died before saying something so embarrassing out loud.

When they couldn’t see each other in person, they skyped or messaged. Yuri preferred skyping. He could see if Otabek had cut his hair or hadn’t shaved for a few days; he could see how wide he could make Otabek smile. When they messaged, he lost all of that.

When they talked in person his friend always kept his eyes just on him, like he saw him and only him. With messaging, he didn’t get any of that feedback.

And Otabek’s replies in writing seemed so much more formal or polite or _something_ than he wanted, and he found himself frustrated by the lack of detail. He couldn’t tell what Otabek was thinking.

And with the words there, on his screen, it was obvious how many more of them he was contributing to the conversation. He found himself occasionally feeling insecure about it, as though Otabek was humouring him or didn’t want to tell him about his life or something.

 _No,_ he told himself. _He wanted to be friends with_ me _._

_He said we’re alike._

And they were, in plenty of ways. But communicativeness was not one of them. Once, Yuri felt like he had to say something, and he’d typed “Sorry, I’m doing all the talking” and Beka had said, “I don’t mind. I like it when you tell me about your day. I feel like you included me in it.”

Yuri could picture his smile when he said things like that.

But skyping was still better, when he could actually see that smile.

He could have done with it tonight, but he hadn’t thought to ask if they could, because he was so on edge; he’d just launched into texting as soon as he’d left the rink, before he’d even gotten home.

_**Victor and the Katsudon weren’t at the rink today, they were training somewhere else,** _  
_**said they wanted privacy for some changes to the Katsudon’s routine. Which -- whatever** _  
_**\-- but without Victor, Georgi always acts like he’s the most important skater there just** _  
_**because he’s the oldest.** _

**_You don’t seem very close to Georgi._ **

**_Of course I’m not close to that freakshow. Wait, have you ever met him?_ **

**_I’ve been in the same room as him. I haven’t ever_ **  
**_spoken to him._ **

**_No surprise there. Do you voluntarily speak to ANYONE at competitions?_ **

Yuri re-read his last message and felt a piece of ice suddenly form in his stomach. Shit. That could be read as him being mean. Shit shit shit -- he added a winking smiley face to try and take out the sting. Wait, did it look like he was flirting now? FUCK.

Otabek was typing a reply. Had there been a delay in his replying? Yuri wasn’t sure.

_**I speak to you.** _

The ice melted a little in his stomach. He could make it clear he wasn’t being mean now.

_**I’m glad you speak to me.** _

_**:)** _

Yuri then felt free to continue talking about his day, complaining about Mila boring everyone about a new guy she’d met at a club, and about Yakov nagging him about his step sequences, even though the Katsudon had been helping him with them.

Then he starting worrying that he’d bombarding Otabek with texts and asked him what he had done that day, how training was going. Then he finally said what he’d been thinking for the past 10 minutes.

_**We’ve been messaging for like half an hour. We should have just skyped or something.** _

_**Did you want to skype now?** _

_**I’m not really dressed, I was getting ready for bed.** _

Yuri felt his face flush at that and then got annoyed at his own stupid face. Otabek probably just meant he was in his sleeping gear. He considered making a joke to get his friend to clarify that he wasn’t lying there half naked but in the end he went with,

_**No, I’m tired now too.** _

_**Maybe we could skype tomorrow?** _

_**Sounds good.** _

_**Talk to you tomorrow.** _

_**Sleep well.** _

Yuri often found himself signing off on chats this way, since Almaty was three hours ahead of St Petersburg. The next time they were in the same time zone would be the Worlds, which were being held in Boston this year. Yuri was extra excited because it meant that he and Otabek would be together just after his birthday, which was a few weeks before the competition.

Yuri was so busy with skating and his schooling that they came very quickly. They were held in spring, so when Victor messaged him the night they arrived to say that they were all meeting up at the pool, it was just warm enough that the suggestion wasn’t completely ridiculous.

Yuri texted Otabek to invite him and changed into his swimming shorts (orange tiger print with black panels. He loved them). He covered himself in an enormous towel with lions all over it and headed into the lifts, scrolling through his social media feeds.

When he got there, Katsuki and Victor were sitting on the edge of the spa, talking to Christophe Giacommetti. Mila was there already too, standing by the pool in a bikini, talking to someone. Yuri had an impression of muscled legs, of long black swimming trunks, of a slim waist and broad shoulders, before they turned their head and he realized it was Otabek.

His friend’s serious face moved into the start of a smile as he turned fully towards him.

Yuri spent a confused second just staring at him, realizing that in more than a year of friendship, he’d never actually seen him in any state of undress.

Otabek had a small patch of dark hair in the middle of his chest, and a larger, thicker one leading down from his belly button.

Mila made Yuri some sort of greeting that he didn’t really process.

She was standing very close to Otabek for someone wearing so little clothing.

Yuri felt very small and young, suddenly, and wanted to be in the goddamned water already, so he scowled and dumped his towel to the side, yelling “I thought we were going for a swim, not making fucking chit-chat,” and cannon-balled into the pool as aggressively as he could, hoping he had splashed them all.

He appeared to get Victor at least, by the sound of the noise the man made, but then Victor just dived in after him. He rose up gracefully out of the water, though, unlike Yuri who had surfaced with a face full of hair and had to duck back down again and come up face first this time.

He had forgotten to bring a hair tie, despite how long his hair was now. He considered asking Mila if she had a spare but couldn’t bring himself to look over to her. It was probably a good thing that Victor splashed him at that point, laughing and saying he hadn’t thought that kittens liked the water. Yuri was splashing Victor back so enthusiastically, he almost missed Mila and Otabek getting into the water as well, until Mila was leaping onto Victor’s back and Otabek was clapping his hand on his shoulder.

“Yura?” Otabek asked, like it was a question, like he was asking if he was all right.

Yuri felt ashamed of himself all of a sudden. He’d been so looking forward to seeing his friend and he hadn’t even greeted him properly.

He looked into those dark eyes of Otabek’s and then threw his arms around him, hugging him close. “Hey,” he said, into his shoulder. They were the same height now, or possibly Yuri was a shade higher; he didn’t think that even a few months ago, the last time they’d met, he’d have been able to bury into his shoulder this way.

Otabek’s strong arms tightened around him. “Did you grow?” he asked into his hair.

“You’re still bigger,” Yuri answered.

“Back to back, boys!” Victor commanded, and the spell was broken.

The vote amongst the group was unanimous; Yuri was slightly taller. Victor posted a picture of them to commemorate the occasion, Yuri scowling, Otabek’s face entirely blank. Half the comments it attracted were about Mila’s bikini in the background and whether Chris was looking at her cleavage (Yuri was pretty sure Victor had framed the photo that way on purpose) but _#yuristaller_ was trending in skating circles by the end of the night.

In the meantime, after a bit more splashing and chatting, and enquiries about whether anyone wanted dinner, Yuri and Beka managed to slink away.

Otabek had been gazing at him thoughtfully, after Yuri had been quiet for a while, and then he just tilted his head at him and said, “I rented a bike. Want to get out of here?”

Yuri nodded.

Any time Otabek took Yuri for a ride it was like they were in their own bubble, just for a stolen little hour or two. He would put his arms around his friend’s waist and stare at whatever was rushing past them and not think about anything. Otabek always seemed to know good routes to take, scenic but never crowded; Yuri had wanted to ask him several times now if he looked these up beforehand or just had a knack for finding them, but he could never work out how to word it without making it sound like he liked them too much.

But today was different. Today he knew he liked them too much.

Which was ironic, as he barely saw where they were today; he was a mess of nerve endings. All he could focus on was the feel of Otabek’s back through his clothing, the way his arms fit around Otabek’s waist. The way his leather jacket smelled.

He had a moment of awkwardness when he first hopped on. He had a burning new knowledge sitting in his stomach and his throat. Now that he knew he’d been kidding himself for a long time about how he felt about his best friend, he felt like pressing too close to Otabek would be like … like _lying_ , now; but Otabek had taken the decision out of his hands. “You’re not secure back there,” he’d said, and moved Yuri’s arms to their usual position.

He barely processed it when Otabek pulled the bike over. They were at some sort of nature reserve; there were a lot of trees, and a lake of some kind.

Yuri slipped off the back of the bike and pulled his helmet off, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you feel better now?”

Yuri jumped a little at Otabek’s voice. Then he nodded, even though he wasn’t sure it was true. He looked up at Otabek’s face to see him doing his best deadpan at him and Yuri felt bad. Otabek gave blank face to other people; that look hadn’t been directed at him in a long time.

He scowled at his shoes for a second but then couldn’t help himself.

“Mila was flirting with you,” he burst out, flicking his eyes up to a spot on Otabek’s shoulder.

“Was she?” Otabek asked, and Yuri lifted his eyes up to his face again. Otabek’s face had relaxed a little but his eyes were even more intense than usual, like he wanted to read Yuri’s mind through his facial expression. Yuri scowled again and looked down at his shoes.

“She’s not really my type,” Otabek added lightly after a second or two.

“Oh yeah?” Yuri asked, glancing up, “well, what’s your type, then?”

Otabek’s smile appeared then, faintly. He was silent for a moment or two, and then he said, “I usually prefer my Russians blonder.”

They looked at each other for a second, and then Yuri felt a blush creep over his cheeks.

“I thought that you knew that,” Otabek added, his small smile hitching up a little on one side. Yuri felt a similar smile appear on his own face and he looked down at his shoes again, shaking his head a little too quickly. Otabek moved a little closer and touched the back of Yuri’s hand with his own, like he was asking permission to hold it.

Yuri took Otabek’s hand and held it tight.

They stayed like that for an indistinct amount of time, and then when Yuri was able to look at Otabek again, he asked, “So are we supposed to make out now, or something?”

Otabek let out a little laugh that was more of a surprised exhalation of breath, but then went back to looking serious. “Are you sure? You don’t want to wait until you’re… older?”

Yuri gaped at him for a second and then said, louder than he realized, “I’m _17 fucking years old_ , what do you fucking mean do I want to wait until I’m fucking _older_?”

Otabek raised his eyebrows at him, and said, “You want me to _kiss_ that mouth, after all of the filth that just came out of it?”

But his smile had gotten wider again and then his hand came up to move Yuri’s hair out of his face, so Yuri took the opportunity to close the distance between them.

He’d never kissed anyone before, though, so he found the last inch the most daunting. They spent several seconds there, moving closer millimetre by millimetre, lining up just right, inhaling each other’s breath. They moved so close that their lips brushed together and Yuri made a small noise and then he wasn’t sure which one of them actually started kissing the other, but it was on and it was fantastic.

They went and got some disgusting American food for dinner after that.

And Yuri held Otabek as tight as he wanted on the ride back.

They held hands all the way back to Yuri’s room.

Otabek went to give him a chivalrous kiss goodnight on the forehead but Yuri grabbed him and made him give him something better. They only stopped because Yuri heard Yakov opening the door behind them.

“Yurachka, I was wondering where -” he was saying, then his eyes flicked between the boys standing in front of him.

Yakov’s mouth thinned.

Yuri lifted his chin in that insolent way he did. He also blushed.

“Yuri, you have an early start tomorrow, you need to get to bed,” Yakov said very sternly and then stomped off, pointedly leaving the door open behind him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yuri said, touching the back of Otabek’s hand.

Otabek just nodded in response, with that little smile of his, and then he was gone.

Yakov drank every drop of vodka in the mini bar before going to bed that night.

He really had so hoped that Yuri would give him a few more years before starting all this shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Beka took Yuri to Middlesex Fells Reservation; it’s about half an hour from the rink they would have performed at for the competition and the highway takes you past a river, which would have been pretty. Hopefully Yuri saw some of it on the way back.
> 
> I relied on streetview and photographs to picture this part of the story, so if anyone's familiar with this part of the world and it doesn't seem right, please let me know.


End file.
